


just might see a ghost tonight

by celaenos



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: (sort of), Campaign 05: A Crown of Candy, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative, One Shot, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celaenos/pseuds/celaenos
Summary: The first time that Saccharina ever sees her aunt Lazuli, she is still a baby.The memory of it slips away as early memories tend to do, but the feeling of safety, the image of a warm blue smile, and the taste of electric crackling with hints of sugar filling the air—remains with her long after she’s grown.
Relationships: Saccharina Frostwhip & Catherine Ghee, Saccharina Frostwhip & Lazuli Rocks
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	just might see a ghost tonight

**Author's Note:**

> i dunno, i have a lot of feelings abt their relationship, this has not at all scratched the surface of them... so, i imagine there will be more eventually. 
> 
> (also a lot of this is riffed off of my catherine ghee character study).

The first time that Saccharina ever sees her aunt Lazuli, she is still a baby.

The memory of it slips away as early memories tend to do, but the feeling of safety, the image of a warm blue smile, and the taste of electric crackling with hints of sugar filling the air—remains with her long after she’s grown.

…

…

Saccharina is playing with a small, hand-sewn doll that Mama crafted for her out of leftover rags while her mother works—hunched over, hands half-cramped, eyes squinting in the candlelight while she hums softly. Saccharina doesn’t recognize the song. She listens intently, lying there on the floor, looking up at the ceiling mold and catching the tune of it. By the third pass through, as her eyelids are getting heavy, she joins in and delights in the surprised laugh that rings out of her mother.

“Alright you,” she says, putting the garments away. “Bedtime.”

“Noooo,” Saccharina pleads. “Not till you.”

“Yes,” Mama says, firm but not unkindly. “Sleep is important. Plus, then you get to have dreams. A free story every night, just for you. Pretty cool, huh?”

Saccharina considers this, then nods. It _is_ pretty cool. “But sleep is important for you, too. Right, Mama?”

Her mother’s face twists, a flash of something Saccharina doesn’t know how to explain—something sad, for sure. It’s gone as quickly as it comes on, Catherine hardly ever lets Saccharina see her upset.

Or, she thinks that she does. Saccharina might be little, but she pays attention.

She crawls into their small, lumpy bed and allows Mama to tuck her in tight, the ragdoll clutched in one arm as Mama bends down and kisses first her right cheek, then her left, her nose, and then finally, her forehead—the same way that she does every night.

“Night, Mama,” Saccharina whispers, and rolls over and falls asleep instantly—her mother’s soft humming as she goes back to work lulling her to sleep.

…

…

At first, the only thing that Saccharina notices is a warm blue smile popping up in reflections of water, in the small cracked mirror that her mother has beside the sink, in the windows at the shops.

She doesn’t think much of it, she’s barely two years old.

Saccharina waves, because the woman waves.

It’s the first time that Saccharina… remembers isn’t the right word, because the memory slips out of her mind before she’s even old enough to try and hold onto it. But it’s the first time that she _notices_ the way that the air that surrounds her almost has a different flavor to it, sharp and strange and tacky, almost; tangible in a way that air shouldn’t have a right to be, with a chilly bite at the edges.

She is half-asleep in a sling that she’s nearly too big for, strapped safely to her mother’s chest as Catherine walks the long route to deliver the milk throughout the town. Saccharina doesn’t know what it is, she never remembers once it’s over, but the air goes hot and tacky and she’s suddenly wide awake, hyper-aware of the way that her mother _tastes_ terrified. Catherine screams as men try to grab her and she attacks them with the milk buckets and _runs._ Saccharina bursts into a panicked, terrified wail, uncontrollable as her mother tries to comfort her and run at the same time. Her mother is scared, and Saccharina is scared, and she wants this all to stop.

Saccharina’s wails go up an octave as the air around her grows tacky and thick—tasting of sugar, for a flash of a second—and then the wind swirls up in a heavy gust behind them. The frustrated and confused sounds of men ring out as Catherine runs as fast as her body will allow her.

Her mother quickly speaks to a fisherman, hurriedly bouncing Saccharina and rubbing at her back to try and calm her down as they climb into the boat, the soldiers still hot on their heels. Saccharina looks down into the milky waters, eyes blurred with tears as she hiccups and sees the face of the blue woman, looking back up at her.

It’s the first time that she hears the woman speak—nearly two years old and terrified, shaking in her mother’s arms as they sit in a small fisherman’s boat, running from the only life that Saccharina has known.

_You’re alright. We’ve got you. Take a breath, sweetheart. You can do it._

Saccharina doesn’t know what she means. She doesn’t know what she is supposed to do. She doesn’t know who ‘we’ means. The only thing that she knows is that her mother is afraid of those men, and Saccharina doesn’t want her mother to be scared. She keeps her gaze down at the sea, looking at the blue woman and she just… thinks about how much she doesn’t want those men to come near them again.

She doesn’t do anything. She just wants her mom to not be scared.

The seas rise to meet her request. (As they will do again). The milky waters suddenly grow strong, and unnatural waves surge up and crash down onto the boat the soldiers had been mounting, and they crash onto the shore, unable to give chase. Saccharina sighs and leans back into her mother’s arms, tasting the sugary warm air and smiling back down at the blue woman. She looks deeply impressed. 

_Atta girl._

Saccharina smiles and wraps her arms around her mother’s neck, falling back asleep.

…

…

The blue woman is nearly always there when Saccharina wants her to be, after that. Her face pops up in most mirrors that Saccharina sits in front of and squishes her face up against, waiting for the familiar face to appear.

Her mother gets a job in a shop on one of the islands—they go to a lot of them, now, never staying in one place for very long—and Saccharina often sits in a corner and plays with her doll and her own reflection.

That’s what everyone says. _Her own reflection._ But, Saccharina knows what she looks like. Catherine points to her nose, to her mouth, her hair, and Saccharina says, “Me!” and knows the difference. When the woman is there, looking back at her, Saccharina says, “Blue!” and no one knows what she is talking about. They just think it's her new favorite color.

Saccharina doesn’t take offense. She’s two. Most of the time, no one knows what she is talking about.

…

…

The blue woman is a constant presence from there on out, but she doesn’t say much.

Not at first.

They move around so often that Saccharina is afraid the blue lady won’t be able to find her, but she always does. Sometimes, she is nothing more than a smiling face, flashing in a reflective surface. Other times, she asks questions about Saccharina’s life, offers up reassurances about her magic, about the war, about Mama, about things that Saccharina sometimes has no context for.

Mostly, if she talks, they talk about magic. Saccharina tells her about how she can just sort of think about it, and want it, and the air will lift her up a little. If she’s cold, she can make it warm, and if she’s too hot, she can cool herself off. The blue lady looks impressed and proud and delighted. She teaches Saccharina how to close her eyes and focus on what she wants, how to have more control over what happens, instead of stuff just… happening.

It’s fun.

Especially because usually when Saccharina does it, Mama looks worried. She starts dragging Saccharina to the Bulbian church with Gilda, the woman who’s shop they live above, now, and Mama starts praying more.

…

…

She finally tells Saccharina that she is her aunt, Lazuli, when she’s nearly five. After almost three years of popping in and out a few times a year to check in, after Saccharina starts to get a little suspicious and curious.

“My aunt?” she asks the window of the shop. Catherine has had a steady job here for a few months, and she’s not as tired as she usually is anymore. She still goes to that boring church every week even though they moved to a different island, and don’t live with Gilda anymore. Saccharina hates it unless they’re singing, because she has to sit still and be quiet for a whole hour while the priests just keep on talking about the Bulb. But, it makes her mama happy, so—

 _The Bulb and I have a complicated relationship_ , Lazuli says wryly.

“Why?” Saccharina asks—her main question, these days. Aoife, Mama’s new boss, has started responding to her questions simply with “Because” which is a terrible answer. Saccharina’s glad that her mother agrees with her; if she doesn’t know the answer to Saccharina’s question, then she just says _that._

 _It’s a bit of a complicated answer,_ Lazuli says. _I think it might be a hard thing to explain to you right now. But, I promise that I will, someday._

“Why would it be hard?” Saccharina asks. “I’m four and ninety-two days! And I’m really smart.”

Lazuli smiles, a fond thing that is sort of like how her mama looks at her, most of the time. Other than the excitement of being the only one who can see her, and talking about magic, and being her aunt, this look is mostly why Saccharina trusts her.

 _You are,_ Lazuli agrees. She sighs and then she looks sort of sad. Saccharina’s least favorite thing is that Lazuli is always stuck in a mirror or the water; stuck where Saccharina can’t touch her. _Citrina would be able to explain it better than me._

Saccharina wrinkles up her nose in a frown. “Who’s that?”

_One of your other aunts._

“How many do I have?” Saccharina asks, in wonder. “I thought it was just me and Mama!”

Lazuli looks so sad that it hurts Saccharina’s chest. She sits up on her knees and smashes her face against the glass and tries to give her aunt a kiss. It makes Lazuli smile and laugh, which leaves Saccharina feeling proud and forgetting all about not being able to hug her, instead.

 _Well,_ Lazuli swallows. _There’s Rococca. She’ll be the Queen after my father dies. Then there’s me. Then Citrina. Then Sapphria. Then, um, my brother, Amethar, your father._

“I have a father?” Saccharina frowns. “Weird.”

Lazuli barks out with laughter. _There’s also my wife, Caramelinda. She would be your aunt, too. By marriage._

“That’s a lot of people,” Saccharina declares, counting them off on her fingers.

 _It is,_ Lazuli agrees. _A lot of people who can’t wait to meet you._

“Why don’t they come and see me, then?”

 _The war doesn’t leave very much room for people to do what they want,_ Lazuli says gritting her teeth.

Mama comes in before Aunt Lazuli can say anything else, and Saccharina sort of forgets all about asking her more about it, later.

…

…

Mama is scared of Aunt Lazuli.

Saccharina gets mad and doesn’t want to stop playing in the sea and go to work with Mama, so she just… throws the water at her. She’s not being in control, like Lazuli taught her to practice. She’s just mad, so she lifts up the sea and throws it at her mother in frustration, drenching her with the salty milk water.

“I’m sorry, Mama!” she calls out. “I’ll fix it!” This time, she _does_ do it on purpose, like Aunt Lazuli has been trying to show her. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath and asks the wind to dry her mother off and it _works._ “I DID IT!” Saccharina cheers.

Except Mama doesn’t look proud or excited, she looks terrified. Saccharina bites at her lip, growing worried the longer that Mama doesn’t say anything. “Have you done that before?” she finally asks, her voice pitched in a strange way.

“Yep!” Saccharina beams. “Not… not on purpose like that, though. The blue lady taught me.” Even though she knows her name, now, Saccharina has thought of her as _the blue lady_ for so long, it sort of just sticks.

“What blue lady?” Mama asks, in that weird tone of voice that hasn’t gone away. It’s is all breathy and light—not at all what her mother usually sounds like.

Saccharina presses her palms together. “She says that she’s my aunt! But, I’ve never met her. Have you?” she asks.

She’s wanted to ask this for a while.

Mama walks over to Saccharina and pulls her close to her chest. “You can’t tell anyone that you can do that,” she says, firmly. Mama pulls her back and brings her hands up to cup Saccharina’s face. “Promise me,” she says, like it’s the most important thing that she is ever going to say to Saccharina; it makes her nervous, she doesn’t like any of this at all. “If the blue lady comes back, you come and you get me. You don’t ever go anywhere with her by yourself, no matter what she tells you, alright?”

Saccharina frowns. She wants to say, _but she can't even get out of the mirror to take me anywhere, so that doesn't even make sense!_ But, her mother's voice is still pitched in that strange way, and she's bitting nervously at her bottom lip, like she's trying not to cry, so, instead, Saccharina just nods in agreement, albeit miserably.

…

…

 _It makes sense that someone would be a bit afraid of things they don’t know. Things they can’t see,_ Lazuli says, the next time she shows up and Saccharina tells her about what Mama said. _A lot of the world finds magic a bit… difficult to wrap their heads around. Not everyone can do it._

“Can Mama?” Saccharina asks. “Maybe you should tell her this, then she won’t be scared!”

Lazuli looks sad again. _If there was a way for me to talk to her, then I would have done so a long time ago, little one. It would have saved a lot of—_

She cuts herself off, pausing a moment to close her eyes before explaining further. Saccharina waits, sort of impatiently as she hops back and forth on one foot, practicing balancing up on her toes.

_Magic can do a lot of things, but it can’t do everything. Your mother doesn’t have any magic for me to access—it’s hard to do even when someone does. The more they have, the easier it is for me to talk to them—like you._

“Do I have a lot?”

_The most I’ve ever seen._

She beams at Saccharina as she says this, like she’s never been more proud. 

"Cool," Saccharina says, with a shrug. "Watch, I can do a whole spin on one foot!"

…

…

“Do you still see the blue lady in mirrors and things?” Mama asks, on her fifth birthday. Saccharina crawls up onto her lap and warms the breeze around them, because she knows that her mother gets cold easily a lot, these days. Cold, and tired, and coughs like she’s sick.

Saccharina hates it.

“Yeah,” Saccharina whispers in response, turning and looking warily up at her mother, trying to gauge what her mood is on this subject. It wasn’t good, last time.

Mama looks out at the sea—her favorite place. She always tells Saccharina that once the war is over, they’re going to get on a ship and sail the seas together forever. Maybe even become the two most fearsome pirates that ever lived. Saccharina can’t wait. “Does she make you feel safe?” Mama finally asks, gaze still out at the sea.

“Yeah,” Saccharina says, easily. “I like her a lot. She says that she’s my aunt Lazuli. She says that my name is Saccharina Rocks. She says that we’re royalty. That I’m magic,” Saccharina tilts her head and looks at her mother full on. “Is that true?” she asks, because as much as she trusts Lazuli, now, she trusts her mother the most.

It takes Mama a long time of looking out at the water before she closes her eyes, coughs a lot, then looks down and meets Saccharina’s eyes. “It’s true,” she says. “Your father is Amethar Rocks, the new King of Candia. When I knew him though, when we got married, he was just Amethar—a prince. One of his sisters was named Lazuli. She could do magic, like you—perhaps not exactly like you, I don’t know, I never met her.”

“She says that she can’t talk to you,” Saccharina agrees, relieved that everything Lazuli said had been true. “You don’t have magic that lets her like me.” Saccharina considers this thought and decides that she doesn’t like having something that her mother doesn’t get to have, too. Saccharina turns around and cups her mother’s face and scrunches her eyes shut, concentrating hard like Aunt Lazuli taught her.

“What are you doing?” Mama asks, sounding amused.

“Giving you some of my magic, too,” Saccharina says simply.

Mama laughs, a big full one that doesn’t leave her coughing, this time, and then she pokes Saccharina in the stomach, getting her to open her eyes and giggle. “I don’t think it works like that.”

Saccharina pouts, leaning further into her mother’s arms. “Well, it should.”

“You know how we go to church?” Mama asks, once they’ve gathered up their things and started walking back to the village. Saccharina nods. “The Bulb, doesn’t… magic doesn’t belong in the Bulbian faith. Not unless it’s something that comes from the Bulb itself. Even then, I think they’re pretty wary.”

“What?” Saccharina scrunches up her face and frowns, maybe this was what Aunt Lazuli was talking about. She doesn't like the sound of it. 

Mama sighs. “You shouldn’t tell people about what you can do,” she says. “They might think that it’s bad. Or wrong to have. Or… it’s just easier if you don’t tell people.”

“ _Is_ it bad?” Saccharina asks, suddenly far more worried than she’s ever felt about it. She’s never been scared of the magic that she can do, until now. “Am _I_ bad?”

“No,” Mama says, immediately. She crouches down and gets eye-level with Saccharina. “There isn’t anything about you that’s bad, my love,” she says, firmly. “Not a thing.”

…

…

The very last time that Saccharina ever gets to speak to Lazuli, she says the exact same thing as her mother. Saccharina clings to that for a long, long time.


End file.
